After All of These Lifetimes
by acaelousqueadcentrum
Summary: Prompt: "uplifting and sweet as fuck" story using "I wrote a letter to my love" as a prompt.


They never get married.

They talk about it; every couple of years one of them brings it up and they weigh the pros and the cons.

But in the end, it's not for them.

They found each other.

They have each other.

It's enough.

Neither needs the promises or the vows.

Not when Holly falls asleep every night with Gail in her arms, feeling the soft in and out of every slow breath.

Not when Gail opens her eyes every morning to Holly's beautiful face, and wakes her love with sweet, gentle kisses.

They know they've found their forever kind of love.

What's a diamond, a ring, compared to that?

* * *

One morning they wake up and it's been fifteen years.

Holly's closer to fifty than she likes to remember, and too many years older than Gail to ever forget. Holly's hair is going grey and she's long-since given in to bifocals. Her bones creak when she moves and ache when she rests. Her breasts droop and her stomach's gotten flabby and the skin under her arms wiggles and shakes now.

But still, how could she ever feel old when Gail looks at her with such love in her eyes. How could she feel the weight of time passing by when the woman she loves still wakes her up with kisses, still falls asleep in her arms every night. How could years mean anything when Gail wants her as much as ever, when the fire of passion still burns hot, when they know each other's bodies better than their own.

A look, the crook of an eyebrow and the hint of a sultry smirk, and Holly still feels her whole body tingle with anticipation.

A brush of the breast, a caress of her ass, a breath on her neck, and still, Holly quivers and aches and wants.

How could half-a-century matter when she has half-a-century more to love this woman. When she has a half-a-lifetime left to give to Gail, to give to the life they've created together.

It couldn't.

It doesn't.

It's their anniversary, of sorts.

* * *

All the days of their firsts, all the days that mark their beginnings are tinged with tragedy and with loss.

This anniversary, this date on the calendar, they picked together. A day with no bodies or bombs, with no bullets or goodbyes.

It was Gail's idea, so eager to give them a fresh start, a new beginning. It doesn't erase the past, doesn't let them forget.

But it lets them build.

It sets them free.

* * *

The house is quiet when Holly makes her way down the stairs, knees cracking.

They'd woken together to the sound of Gail's cell phone, calling her in to the scene of someone else's terrible day. There'd been time for a shower and a kiss, but Gail insisted that she stay in bed, sleep in on her day off.

So she got a kiss, long and loving, and a sweet "Happy fifteen, Hol," before slipping back into her dreams to the familiar sounds of Gail getting ready for work.

When she wakes again, the sun and the birds are out, and she lays there in bed for a few more minutes, thinking back on the past decade and a half.

It's hard to believe it's been fifteen years, it seems like just yesterday she was trying to get a cute blonde in a police uniform out of her head.

They've changed so much, the both of them. They've changed each other. And Holly knows, for her at least, she'd never have become this person, this person she likes, without Gail by her side.

When she thinks of who she'd be without the woman she loves, she thinks of darkness and loneliness, she thinks of a woman who never learned how to stay, how to fight, how to be steady in love. She thinks of waking up alone and eating alone and going to bed alone. She thinks of having no one to share her in her joys and her sorrows. She thinks of being willing to settle for sex and never truly experiencing love.

And she's so grateful, as she walks around their home. So grateful. Because this home is a living testament to loving Gail, to becoming better than that woman she could have been.

There are pictures on the walls from the life they've built together—trips and holidays and celebrations over the years. There's the walls they argued over, the paint they only just compromised upon, the scuffs here and scratches there that come from ten years of wear and tear. There's the furniture they bought together, the art Gail picked out, the flowers Holly meticulously waters every week.

Every part of their house is a home, and every corner, every inch, a memory. And there are so many more to be made, so much space to fill with loving each other.

* * *

The envelope on the table is small, and Holly's favorite shade of steel blue. The exact color of Gail's eyes.

Her name is written on it in Gail's bold, messy script. It's not rare that Gail calls her Holly, but more often than not, it's Hol, or Hols, or any of the nicknames the police officer has come up with over the years: Doc, Nerd, Nerdsbian. And one time, and one time only, Baby.

Her full name—Holly—though, is usually saved for moments when Gail is angry, and then it's said in a cold, flat voice, or when Gail is lost in love, and then it's a whisper, a stutter of emotion.

Like in bed after making love. As Gail comes down from her climax and curls into her, needing to be close, to feel their cooling skin pressed together. As Gail trembles, as the embers of her nerves spark and flare. More than any other time, that's when Gail calls her Holly, her voice soft and sweet and breathless. In those moments, it's not even her name anymore, Holly knows, it's a prayer, it's a blessing, it's the purest form of love she's ever been graced to know.

So the envelope there, the name, it means something.

It means something big.

* * *

She waits.

The clock ticks and counts out the minutes.

The mail-carrier comes and goes.

Children run on the sidewalk outside, and mothers walk with their strollers while an old man from across the street walks his old dog.

Still, she waits, sitting at the table with the envelope in front of her.

She's not afraid, she loves too deeply, trusts too fully to be afraid.

She just doesn't know—should she open it? Should she wait?

One time, many Christmases ago, she accidentally spoiled her own present from Gail, and for the last three weeks before the holiday her love grumped about "people who just can't wait" and "partners who look in drawers they're not supposed to look in."

The fact that it had been Gail's underwear drawer, right on top of a pair of the boxer briefs the officer wore under her uniform, and that Holly had been putting away the laundry Gail'd sworn for three days in a row she'd take care of, hadn't meant a thing.

So she sits and waits and wonders.

Until a buzz from her pocket startles her out of her trance; a message from Gail.

"Open it, Nerd."

* * *

 _My Hols,_

 _Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there was a girl who was sad. She tried and tried to be happy, she tried to make other people happy, but it never worked. She loved people, but not in the right way. And they never loved her quite right either. Some loved too tight. Some loved too loose. And some loved only as long as she did what they wanted, became who they wanted her to become._

 _And in the end, none of them stayed. None of them was willing to love her forever._

 _So this girl, she was ready to give up. Every time she tried to love, tried to be happy, she ended up alone. So maybe, she thought, maybe love and happiness weren't for her._

 _She could live without them._

 _And she tried._

 _She did._

 _But then, one day, someone wandered into her life, and everything changed._

 _You, Holly, you came into my life. And everything changed._

 _You made me believe that I was worth love, and that I deserved to be happy. And you gave me the strength to try again. Or maybe you didn't give it to me, maybe you just helped me to remember that it was there._

 _You are the person I waited my whole life for, Holly. You are the person who loves me at my best and at my worst. You are the person who understands all of my pieces, who's helped me to grow beyond all the parts of me that I thought were broken._

 _You, Holly, are the only person who never thought I was broken._

 _And I just wanted you to know that you are everything to me. You are my light and my dark. You are my happy and my sad. And maybe that's weird, but I mean it. You are in every thought I have and every breath I take._

 _I know who I'd be without you, Hols. I was that person once. And you made me believe that I could want better things, that I could be better._

 _For fifteen years, every day and every night, you have made me better._

 _Every day and night, for fifteen years, I have loved you more for it._

 _And I want to love you more every day and night for the rest of my life._

 _I'm not asking you to marry me, and I'm not getting down on one knee like an idiot._

 _But telling you that every day, for the rest of my life, I will love you. And every night, I will love you. And every moment in-between, I will love you._

 _Every day an infinity more than the last._

 _And I'm asking you, Holly, if you'll spend the rest of your life loving me._

 _Love,_

 _Gail_

* * *

Holly wiped the tears from her eyes with a laugh.

Only Gail.

Only her love.

She's spent fifteen years trying to figure out how anyone could ever see Gail as anything but loving and kind and sweet. She hasn't figured it out yet, and she's not sure she ever will.

The Gail she knows is the Gail in this letter. The Gail who surprises her at work with dinner when she's working late. Who will argue with her about whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher, and then come home early to clean the house and make dinner. Who will dance barefoot with her in their living room and gently brush a kiss over her forehead when she gets called out in the middle of the night.

The Gail Holly knows does things like this, writes beautiful letters declaring her love and—she sees the card still in the envelope—arranges dinner at their favorite restaurant for them and all their family and friends.

* * *

"I'll pick you up at six," the card says, "I'm wearing the dark red dress you like."

She doesn't answer back.

Not in a text, not in a message left on Gail's phone.

Instead, Holly takes her time getting ready.

She showers and massages her skin with Gail's lotion, knowing how much the blonde likes to smell her scent on Holly's skin. She paints her nails and puts her hair up in a loose braid, knowing that eventually Gail's fingers will comb through the wisps that have escaped to fall around her face.

And she reads the letter, over and over and over again. Every time feeling her the warmth of her love grow and grow. After fifteen years, she's still finding new ways to love this woman.

When it's time to get dressed, Holly slips into a pair of dark tuxedo pants she has around for special occasions, and a deep blue blouse. The necklace at her neck is one that Gail gave her years ago, sapphire stones on a silver chain, and the bracelet, a wide band of silver with Gail's fingerprint engraved on the inside. Gail has a matching one, with Holly's print inside hers; Holly'd gotten them for their tenth anniversary, the lab geek in her enamored with the idea of taking Gail with her wherever she went.

And then Gail's at the door, ringing the doorbell like she hasn't given this house her blood and sweat and tears.

* * *

There are flowers, her favorite, and then Gail in that red dress that hugs her just right and cuts in places that should be wrong.

"You idiot," Holly says with a smile and pulls Gail into the hallway.

But Gail just smiles, wide and open and full of love. Her blue eyes don't just shine, they sparkle, and Holly gives in to the game she knows the other woman is playing.

"Yes," she says and cups Gail's face, the flowers forgotten on the table next to them, "yes. Every day. Even when you're grumpy and insufferable. Even when I'm cranky and stubborn. On our good days and our bad days, forever."

She pulls Gail into her and looks into the watery sky of Gail's eyes.

"I will love you forever," Holly says, and seals her words with a kiss.

* * *

They don't get married.

But they go to dinner with everyone they love, everyone who means something to them.

They celebrate fifteen years together and toast to another fifteen, and forever after that.

They stand up in front of their families and their friends and thank them all for coming, for all their love and support.

They stand up in front of everyone and thank each other for fifteen years of love, of laughter, of tears and fights and making up.

There are no vows, no promises.

There are no diamonds or rings.

There's just the two of them.

And love.

And forever.


End file.
